A small frown began to mar his brow as dark thoughts suddenly encroached on his pleasure. Swirling, confusing snatches of memory surfaced briefly enough to give him a glimpse of something he felt it was important to remember, only for his brain to suddenly head in another, more confusing direction.
Dragging in a deep breath, he immediately groaned as pain unlike any he had ever known lanced down his side. Stars danced before his eyes, and bile rose in his throat. Despite the instinctive reluctance to do so, he had to draw another breath, and was unsurprised when even the smallest breath increased the pain further.
“There now, everything will be alright.” The soft, melodic voice was accompanied by gentle hands that tenderly smoothed the puckered flesh of his brow. It took every ounce of energy he had to open his heavy eyelids, and look for the source of the comfort.
Stunned, he gazed at the most surprisingly beautiful face he had ever seen in his life. Long, curly auburn tresses were haphazardly tied back, leaving loose strands to curl lovingly on smooth alabaster cheeks. His eyes met and held her mossy green gaze, and he felt something deep within his chest break free and begin to warm. Instinctively, he was drawn towards this woman of such tenderness, and he knew nothing in his life would ever be quite the same.
“Hello,” Amelia whispered softly. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest as she looked into his sleepy gaze. His eyes were the most alluring dark blue and framed with wonderfully thick, dark lashes. She knew she should be backing away, but the blatant masculinity staring back at her held her mesmerised.
“Who are you?” His husky question sent ripples of awareness down her spine.
Amelia found herself fighting the shocking urge to lay her head down next to his, and tell him everything. Blanking out that particular wayward thought, she shook her head slightly.
“My name is Amelia,” she replied, ingrained politeness overriding her wariness. “What’s yours?” She found herself unable to break the invisible hold he had on her.
“Sebastian.” His gruff reply was instantaneous, leaving Amelia in no doubt as to his honesty. His gaze was steady as it held hers unrelentingly.
“Sebastian what?” She knew she should have asked for his title, but something within her didn’t wish to know. She suddenly didn’t want him to confirm he was one of them. The Ton.
Despite lying prostrate and weakened upon her bed, he was so intrinsically masculine that he made her feel warm and protected. She watched carefully as a frown marred his brow, and she wasn’t sure if she was sad or relieved when his eyes broke away from hers.
Turning his gaze towards the ceiling, he considered his answer.
“Do you know? I am not sure.” His frown deepened. “Where am I?”
Sebastian tried to rise from the bed and look around the room only to groan aloud when pain lanced his side. “My side,” Sebastian gasped, hating the invalidity of his body.
“I think you have broken some bones. You must lie still.” Amelia tugged the sheet up to his armpits, covering the tempting expanse of well-muscled chest before moving away from the bed.
She was glad to be able to put some distance between them, and took a few moments to bustle in front of the hearth while she gathered her scattered wits about her.
Despite being battered and bruised, he had far too much of an impact on her than she liked. He was gentry, and that fact alone should be enough to ensure any fluttering of attraction she felt towards him came to nothing. Nevertheless, the raw masculinity of the man lying in her bed was impossible to ignore.
Undoubtedly a rake, Amelia thought to herself. The Ton was littered with them, and they were all the same. Good looking, sophisticated, charming and with far too much money than was wise or fair. They had little to do in a day other than eat, drink and bed women, leaving the poor to work from dawn to dusk running their estates for them in exchange for a pittance.
Somewhat mollified that the initial fluttering of attraction she had felt for him had been banished to the far corners of her innermost thoughts, Amelia carefully spooned a bowl of broth and returned to the bed. Ideally, now he was awake she should hand him his clothes and order him out of her cottage. Despite the weather.
Although she had kept herself to herself while she had lived on the outskirts of Glendowie, people in the village knew her or knew of her. Her reputation could be tarnished as easily as any aristocratic young lady’s, simply by having him in her cottage. Injured or not. She couldn’t afford for the village, or Sir Hubert, to cast her out. Her very survival depended upon their respect and belief in her integrity.
Turning back towards the bed, she was surprised to find him still awake and watching her carefully.
“You didn’t answer me,” Sebastian murmured, watching the delicate curve of her feminine brow arch in silent question. Despite the sparseness of the room, there was something about her that spoke of quality. “Where am I?”
“You are in a small village of Glendowie, on the Scottish borders,” Amelia replied, helping him sit upright enough to plump the pillow behind him.
Silence settled between them as she sat tentatively on the edge of the bed and began to spoon the fragrant broth into his mouth. He managed to consume half of the bowl before he motioned he was full with a weak wave of his hand, and a murmur of thanks. He greedily drank the cup of water offered to him and eased back into the pillows with a sigh.
Amelia watched him with a pang of longing. He looked so comfortable lying on her small mound of pillows. She longed to be able to lie down and go to sleep herself, but given he occupied the only bed she owned; it was the cold, hard floor for her. Shaking her head in disgust, she silently cursed the aristocracy and returned to the hearth.
“Are you married?” She turned at the raspy rumble and considered her answer. Should she reveal the truth, and leave herself vulnerable to him? After all, she still had to learn who he was and what had happened to him. If he was one of the Ton, with his looks he was undoubtedly a rogue. She certainly didn’t want him considering her to be vulnerable prey, there to service his every desire before he left for home. But if she said she was married, she couldn’t produce a husband to come home. The longer he was in her cottage, the more evident it would be that there was no man in residence.
She found herself unable to lie to him. “Can you remember how you got here?” Amelia asked, hoping he would accept her change of subject.
Sebastian had already surmised she was unwed. Although sparsely furnished, the single room cottage had a touch of femininity about it. Wild flowers sat in a small pot upon the well-scrubbed, but rickety wooden table standing in solitary splendour in front of the only fireplace in the room. The retiring screen in the corner, which undoubtedly hid the chamber pot, was draped in female paraphernalia. There were no boots, cloaks, or signs of masculine presence. Indeed, if it weren’t for the clothing, there would be very little sign of Amelia living there.
Bringing his attention back to her question, he generously ignored the fact she had carefully skirted around his question. “I can remember bits and bobs, but nothing that makes any sense. It was raining and dark, and I was in a carriage but apart from that-.” He shook his head and winced as the throbbing in his temples increased.
“You need to rest. I am sure your memory will return in good time.” Amelia settled down in the old chair she had tugged before the fire, and dragged a large basket of mending toward her. With the adventures of the previous night, she had not had the time to do the mending for the main house.
Although the pay was little, the pennies were a boon to her meagre finances. She knew Sir Hubert paid her as much as he could afford, but she was aware her wages fell far below those of other housekeepers. Yet she liked Hubert. He had been kind and considerate; giving her a chance when nobody else could. She was grateful he had given her a job at all. With no references, he could have easily turned her out without bothering to speak to her. Instead, he had accepted her honest explanation of her circumstance, and hired her on the spot
.
Amelia traded part of the wages she knew he couldn’t afford to pay her, for rental of the cottage. She had stayed in the housekeeper’s quarters of his small manor house briefly while she made the small cottage habitable. She didn’t mind its dilapidated state. She gained a home of her own, and a small measure of pride in the knowledge that despite the odds being stacked against her, she was able to look after herself.
“Amelia?”
Amelia snapped out of her silent reverie, and glanced at her house guest.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Amelia was half out of her seat when she was waved back down.
“It’s just that I have, erm, pressing needs.” Sebastian paused, wondering if she would understand.
Amelia frowned in consternation. Pressing needs? Oh! She couldn’t prevent the blush that stole through her cheeks when his meaning dawned on her. With an uncomfortable cough, she lunged out of her chair and hurried behind the retiring screen, emerging moments later with a thankfully empty pot. Placing it down beside the bed, she frowned in consternation at the next problem.
“Er-.” She eyed the empty receptacle warily, her cheeks fiery red.
“I can manage by myself, thank you.” Sebastian’s crisp declaration brooked no argument.
“Will you be alright to sit up by yourself?” She waved her hand vaguely towards his ribs, watching his wince as he tried to sit. Clearly he was in considerable pain.
“Hold the sheet,” she ordered, as she moved forward to help. As soon as her hands touched his warm flesh, her treacherous body began to respond. It took every ounce of self preservation she had to ignore the delicious lemony scent that seemed to ooze from him. She stared blankly at the wall and tried to ignore the urge to turn her head and kiss his bristly cheek.
Well really! She silently chastised herself, frowning when she felt his ribs shake slightly.
She stood up and looked down at him. Immediately her gaze was caught and held by his smiling blue eyes. She knew he was aware of her discomfort and was grateful when he simply smiled at her in sympathetic amusement.
Sebastian wished his brain was working well enough to offer some smooth repartee, and wisely kept his mouth shut. Instead he nodded his thanks with a soft smile as he assumed a seated position directly above the chamber pot.
“I’ve got to get some more wood in. I’ll be back soon.” She turned away quickly, missing the dark scowl that immediately fell over Sebastian’s face at her announcement.
Hurrying to the door, she snatched her cloak from the table on the way, wincing as she tugged the damp material around her. Within moments, she was standing outside in the pouring rain again, waiting for her heart to slow to its normal pace.
You’re a fool Amelia, he isn’t for you, she chastised herself, watching the steady sheets of rain splash onto the muddy puddles lying in the middle of the cart track. How she was to find dry wood now, heaven only knew, but at least it would give her something to do. She heaved a sigh, and headed into the woods.
CHAPTER TWO
Sebastian watched the door close behind her and muttered a dark curse. She shouldn’t be heading outside in weather like this for any reason. He should have gone, and would have if it wasn’t for the cursed injuries he now carried.
Where had they come from? What was he doing here? Amelia hadn’t told him where she had found him, and when, and he hadn’t thought to ask. How long had he been asleep?
He could feel exhaustion claiming him and, having seen to his most pressing need, carefully eased himself back down onto the bed with a deep sigh.
“Amelia,” he murmured softly, considering the intriguing bundle of femininity who had been his saviour. She had undoubtedly saved his life, but who was she?
As sleep drew him down, his mind latched onto the one nagging question that wouldn’t go away. Whoever Amelia was, she was living in bleak deprivation with no protector, and no guardian. Although her clothing was rough and work-worn, she glided like a lady, spoke in cultured tones rather than local dialect, and lived in desolate exile rather than a country house somewhere. He was almost certain she was gentry of some sort, if not Ton. So, why was she there? Who was she?
As the questions swirled around him, Sebastian made a promise to himself that whatever happened, before he left the tiny, ramshackle hovel Amelia called home, he would learn all of her secrets.
Amelia had been so preoccupied with the presence of the man in her bed that she had forgotten to feed herself. A fact her empty stomach reminded her of frequently, as she trudged through the woods looking for the driest sticks she could find. The steady pile of timber she had collected would be enough to get them through the next few days if they were lucky.
The woods were nearly impossible to get through. During the storm, the relentless winds had torn down several large branches that now blocked the path she usually used to get to Sir Hubert’s house. Luckily, that meant there was fresh wood now available if she snapped off the smaller branches she could carry.
Unfortunately, it also meant that she couldn’t get through to the main house until the light increased enough for her to forge another way through the dense woods. She could only hope Sir Hubert would understand her absence, and be alright fending for himself for a few days. Reluctantly, she trudged through the deep mud towards home.
Once there she quietly she eased the front door open, shoving the wood through the door before toeing her mud-laden boots off with a sigh. She didn’t know how she was going to get them and her dress clean. She watched the small puddle of water gather rapidly around her feet with a sigh. She hated getting wet, and because of the events over the past day or so, had already worked her way through nearly all of the contents of her scant wardrobe.
Her stomach rumbled loudly in the silence of the room. Glancing quickly at the bed, she was pleased to see her new guest was resting peacefully. Taking advantage of the solitary moment, she disappeared behind the retiring screen and changed into her last dry dress, before turning her attention to the remainder of her many chores.
Eventually, exhaustion began to catch up with her. Unable to take another step, Amelia settled down on the floor in front of the hearth. Tugging the thin blanket around her, she tried hard to ignore the cold of the stone beneath her seeping through her dress, and wriggled around in search of a more forgiving spot on which to lie.
Her fitful doze was interrupted sometime later by a long, low moan coming from the bed. Despite the discomfort caused to her aching limbs by sleeping on the cold stone floor, she lurched to her feet and crossed the room.
“Damn,” she muttered, placing a gentle hand upon the soft pelt of his chest hair. The skin beneath her fingertips burned as he tossed his head upon the pillow.
Instinctively she tried to soothe him, tenderly running her fingers across his forehead and down his cheek.
“Rest now, you are perfectly safe, Sebastian.” Amelia wasn’t sure how much he understood, but was fairly certain he had heard her when he immediately settled.
Her fingers continued to stroke the soft skin of his brow, over and over. She couldn’t be certain whether the fever was caused by unseen injuries, or the chill of being soaked to the skin wearing nothing but a thin cotton shirt. But there was little she could do except watch and wait.
Briefly, she wished she had chosen to live in the village. At least then she would have a neighbour she could call upon to summon assistance. At that moment, as she sat in the silence of the tiny cottage watching him thrash about in feverish confusion, she had never felt more alone, or more scared, in her entire life.
Well, not entirely, she reminded herself with a shake as stark memories returned. This situation, though, involved someone else’s future.
Social strictures notwithstanding, there was a very real possibility that this gentleman of nobility, who was undoubtedly heir to a vast fortune and estates somewhere, could very well lose his battle for survival. Alone. With her. In her cottage. Then what would happen to her? Her life, su
ch as it was, would be left in tatters. His would be gone completely.
Despite her exhaustion and worry, Amelia knew sleep would not be returning any time soon. She didn’t dare rest again in case his condition grew worse. She didn’t want to be too busy sleeping to help.
A quick examination of his wounds revealed them to be unchanged. Thankfully, there was no sign of infection. Carefully, she ran her fingers over the soft ridges of his bone on his sides, sighing deeply at the uneven ripples she found. Her quest for answers was met with a low moan of discomfort from the man within the bed, and immediately Amelia stopped her exploration. Undoubtedly his bones were broken, but could they cause a fever? She wasn’t sure.
She settled beside the bed with a yawn, aware that daylight had already arrived. Tugging the thin blanket around her shoulders with a yawn, she dragged the high-backed chair beside the bed and plopped down into it with a weary sigh.
She should be getting herself ready to go to work, but even if she could summon the energy, she simply could not leave him on his own for the day.
Taking advantage of his unconscious state, she studied the handsome lines of his flushed face. He really was a devastatingly handsome man. Having spoken to him, it was evident that he was Ton and that changed matters considerably. She couldn’t afford for him to become desperately ill, and put his life at risk.
As the minutes ticked by she made the decision that, should his condition deteriorate, she would just have to risk her reputation and head to the village to summon the doctor. When he was safely ensconced at the doctor’s house, she could head over to Sir Hubert’s and plead for his understanding and forgiveness for her absence from work.
As the early morning sunlight surrendered to a murky, storm-tossed gloom, Amelia was jolted awake by the thrashing of the man on the bed beside her. She jumped to her feet and tried to soothe him, muttering imprecations to herself as her fingers made contact with his incredibly hot skin. His handsome face was bathed in sweat as he twisted and turned in feverish confusion.
Cinders and Ashes Page 3
